


Pyjamas

by paigemccullers



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F, a bisexual in danger!!!, an idiot doctor!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-19 20:28:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16541672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paigemccullers/pseuds/paigemccullers
Summary: Yasmin Khan is today years old when she realizes that her police training does not double as time travel trouble training – try saying that five times fast while you’re running for your life from some evil ice creatures carrying guns that shoot crackling blue beams past your ear.





	Pyjamas

Yasmin Khan is today years old when she realizes that her police training does _not_ double as time travel trouble training – try saying that five times fast while you’re running for your life from some evil ice creatures carrying guns that shoot crackling blue beams past your ear.

“TARDIS. TARDIS. TARDIS. TARDIS.” That’s Ryan, yelling at himself. Best he does it otherwise someone else’ll have to and everyone else is using their lungs currently.

But that’s good; Yaz can see Ryan so he’s accounted for. Graham is having a slightly dodgier time – the whole “being old” thing not coming up trumps but he’s managing to keep up, just. That’s two.

She doesn’t even need to check on The Doctor because The Doctor is, well, The Doctor but hey ho she glances over her shoulder anyway. Yep, that’s three. All present, correct and by the looks of it mostly intact.

“Come on, Graham! Chop, chop!” The Doctor flings her hands about in the general direction of the blue box standing just beyond the clearing a few hundred yards ahead of them. It’s not really a clearing, just a hole in the big, black, bouldery cliff towering over them. But clearing sounds nicer and like they’re not all about to die, so Yaz goes with that.

Graham doesn’t respond but Yaz notices him pick up the pace just a touch. The Doctor decides to change her course and runs beside him, which is sweet and Yaz finds herself smiling at the gesture.

It’s short lived because for one, smiling while running for your life from some proper angry snowmen isn’t something a normal person does and two? Her face meets the ground at just the correct speed to wipe a smile from any face.

Currently? It’s Yaz’s. And ow.

“Damn it, Yaz!”

“Keep going, Graham, I’ll get her!”

Yaz isn’t stupid; she’s back on her feet in two seconds and breaking out into a sprint in three but apparently that’s not enough for The Doctor. Yaz feels The Doctor’s hand wrap around hers tightly and then –

“RUN!”

Silently she thinks, “well yes, cheers, what an unthought-of suggestion!” but also, “wow, soft hands, pretty girl, yes.” It’s hard work being constantly in danger and constantly bisexual.

The Doctor lets her go as soon as they’re within spitting distance of the TARDIS, Ryan has just hit his palms against the blue box when the door pops open and he hurls himself inside, Graham not terribly far behind.

“Do you do cardio?!” The Doctor gasps loudly as they approach the door, limbs flailing. “You’re barely sweating!”

Yaz can confirm that she is, in fact, sweating like a pan of onions and that The Doctor needs glasses. You woulda thought regeneration would’ve come equipped with all the snazzy new updates. Like half decent eyesight and the ability to read the room – or well, atmosphere.

The Doctor hops through the door and Yaz just about follows yelling out a “Wha-”

She’s cut off, a flash of blue, the crackling noise, her body flipping through the air, pirouetting sideways. She bounces off the centre console and hits the ground.

“Yasmin!” It sounds like her mother. Her mum’s here? That’s good, she kind of misses her – wouldn’t mind a cuddle. Wonder if she brought her dad and sister. She misses them too. That’d be nice. If they were here.

“Mum?” She thinks she manages to say it out loud but she doesn’t know, she can’t hear herself and it feels like she’s missing something, her body? She’s missing her body. No – that can’t be right. Eyes, best to open them probably. She does.

Her body is there which is good, very good, she uses her body for things so, yeah, good stuff. There’s something a bit dodgy goin’ on with her shoulder though.

“Yasmin! Yaz! Can you hear me?” Blonde hair, pretty eyes. Oh yeah, The Doctor, how could she forget about The Doctor? She’s here with her mum? That’s a bit weird.

“Uhhg-”

That means yes.

“Okay, listen, you just got hit by one of their blasts but it’s okay, I’m going to take care of you. Do you hear me?!” Yaz hears loud and clear but voicing the fact seems strangely hard.

She feels a hand on her cheek and fingers slipping between hers. Warm hands, _soft_ hands and its a very, very nice feeling, nice enough to send her to sleep.

-

Oh no.

That’s definitely her first thought waking up. Her second is “ouch” shortly followed by “what the heck?” She also ponders the fact that she’s totally waking up in someone else’s bed. Well, there is a first time for everything she supposes.

There’s a gentle hum surrounding her, familiar and warm. Soft sheets beneath her, a weighty blanket covering her body, she gathers her bearings before wrestling with the idea that her eyes are gonna have to open at some point.

When they do, it’s dim and calm, a soft orange light blooms along the strange walls. There’s not a lot else to see, she glances down at herself. Constellation pyjamas? Interesting.

By interesting she means, “how the heck did I get into these?” A question for a later date and an angrier Yaz. Then she notices the chair next to her bed and the person slumped in said chair. A soft snore comes from The Doctor.

Huh, so she does sleep. Cool.

Everything’s still a little blurry, her eyesight, memories, the pain – but she knows its there, all of it. Especially the pain part, it feels like someone thumbed in a hulk sized car cigarette lighter before pulling it out and pressing it directly against the back of Yaz’s shoulder.

Not one for dramatics or anything – but that’s what it feels like.

She glances back at the girl in the chair next to her, not that she was ever really looking away from her because she looks _so_ cute; head drooped to the side, arms folded across her tummy. Cute. Yaz thinks she’s smiling, just a little, she’s not sure, but she thinks so.

She spends the next few minutes piecing together her memories, the pain, the running, the flying through the air, The Doctor’s hand on her cheek. It comes together slowly, jagged in places but making sense all the same. One thing is for sure; she looked like an absolute _tit_ when she fell over.

“Yaz!”

The sudden outburst almost spirals Yaz off the bed.

“Yaz, you’re awake! I was so worried!” The Doctor is up and in her line of sight in half a second; Yaz feels a gentle hand on her good shoulder. The Doctor is beaming, the smile practically splitting her face. “Ryan and Graham too! We’ve all been worried. Right fright you gave us there. Thought you were in the clear but nope! Got you right here.” The Doctor pokes just below Yaz’s collarbone on her good side. “But on the other side, obviously.”

Yaz recognizes a ramble when she hears one but doesn’t think she’s got the mental capacity to stop it.

“Nasty things those guns, never liked them, not that I like any weapon obviously. Just not especially fond of ice burners, why would I be? Very fond of you though, these last couple of days have been proper scary. Pretty sure we had Graham in tears back there.” The Doctor jabs a thumb over her shoulder before placing her hands on her hips.

Yaz can’t process any of that. Oh, she wants to, for sure, but there’s too much and she’s small and injured and The Doctor talks so much and she’s so much and everything is just a lot. Her eyes start to close again. So she reaches out aiming to rest her good hand on one of The Doctor’s to stop the almighty ramble. Instead it just brushes the other woman’s stomach but is Yaz too weak to care?

Yes she is!

“Mmmm.” Yaz manages to mumble, not bothering to move her hand. The Doctor presses her lips together, taking the hint. She brings her fingers up to Yaz’s hand and takes it softly.

“I’m sorry.” The Doctor whispers, worrying Yaz’s fingers between her own. Her eyes snap open and find The Doctor’s immediately. She spots the guilty look, the upset frown. She can see the moment when The Doctor asked her if she was sure and she hadn’t hesitated to echo the word back. She can see that moment playing over and over behind The Doctor’s eyes.

“No.” It comes out croaky and dry and barely at all if we’re being honest but it still comes out. “No.”

The Doctor’s brow furrows deeper, questioning.

“Not your fault.”

The Doctor huffs and shifts her weight from one foot to the other but doesn’t let go of Yaz’s hand. She doesn’t look entirely convinced but at least she has the decency not to fight a broken Yaz.

“Fine. Wouldn’t mind if you hurried up the recovery process though. You humans are incredibly fragile and my blood pressure is through the roof!”

“So sorry.” Yaz manages to roll her eyes and – there’s that grin again, The Doctor’s dorkiest smile, Yaz’s favourite smile. It’s contagious, Yaz is smiling too. She probably looks like a right freak, chapped lips, messy hair, _constellation pajamas._

Yaz gestures vaguely at her current attire and raises an eyebrow.

“Oh! They’re mine! My favourite ones actually, definitely the comfiest, a bit big but not _too_ big and they’ve got the stars all over them! Isn’t that cool? I’d wear them all the time if I could. Maybe I should. There’s nothing stopping me…” The Doctor trails off deep in thought and Yaz wants nothing more than to tell her how perfect she is.

How perfect and light she is, good and sweet and caring. Everything Yaz wants to be but she’s not quite sure if she is. The Doctor is everything in a tiny, cute, blonde package and these are her favourite pyjamas.

Her favourite pyjamas that she’s leant to Yaz.

“Are you goin’ t’ stand there all night?” Yaz whispers, it’s easier than trying to talk properly and she doesn’t sound like a complete axe murderer when whispering. Just a bit creepy.

The Doctor frowns again and looks around the space.

“Well, I could sit? That is what chairs are for.” She gestures at the chair. Then her eyes go wide. “Unless you don’t want me here at all? Oh, Yaz, I’m so sorry. I’ve just been stood here blabbering on. I don’t understand social cues.”

Yaz huffs out a dry, silent chuckle and tugs on The Doctor just a little.

“No, I’m cold ‘s all.”

“Oh.”

Yasmin Khan is today years old when she realizes that The Doctor has two hearts worth of love to give. She’s today years old when she realizes that she’s a little bit greedy. She kind of wants that love. If it’s going spare that is.

“Oh yeah, forgot earlier-” The Doctor announces loudly while clumsily climbing up onto the bed. “But I have a question about dry shampoo. What does it _actually_ do?”

 

**Author's Note:**

> everyone keeps thanking chibnall but i think we all know that yaz's mum is the real hero here


End file.
